


Going To The Chapel

by yumytaffy



Category: Crazy Ex-Girlfriend (TV)
Genre: Accidental Marriage, Bartender Hans x Mother Teresa Luther King, Drunken Shenanigans, F/M, Future Fic, Humor, Post-Finale, Unresolved Sexual Tension, tropes tropes tropes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-18
Updated: 2016-09-27
Packaged: 2018-08-15 16:07:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8062969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yumytaffy/pseuds/yumytaffy
Summary: Rebecca and Greg attend Darryl and White Josh’s wedding in Las Vegas. What’s the worst that could happen? Post-S1 future fic.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you as always to [Diaphenia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diaphenia) for the beta and wishes that I live my life through tropes. Shout out to [angelica](http://archiveofourown.org/users/angelica) and [Smapdi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smapdi) for being sounding boards for untold hours to turn the joking "Newly ordained minister White Josh accidentally marries Rebecca and Greg" plot into something real-ish.
> 
> This fic takes place in a utopian world a couple of years after the Season 1 finale where Rebecca and Greg are friends. It’s basically an AU. Please join me in believing this is in the same universe as [that bit of angst](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7771486/chapters/17725666) Smapdi and I wrote.

_Knock, knock, knock_

Paula wakes with a start and bolts upright in bed. The pounding in in her head makes her immediately regret the movement. The bright light streaming in through the hotel window makes her regret waking up at all.

With a groan, she burrows back under the sheets and reaches back into her memory of the night before. After Darryl and White Josh’s Las Vegas wedding and reception, she and Scott had stumbled upstairs to their hotel room, mostly drunk and exhausted but floating on whatever wonderful thing is in the air at every good wedding. Now she’s apparently alone.

Paula blindly reaches for her phone on the nightstand and finds a text from Scott saying he’s forgone sleep in favor of the blackjack tables downstairs before they have to check out. She can’t blame him. Soon, they’ll have to drive back to West Covina and pick up their kids from her mother’s house, but for the next two hours, they can do whatever they want. That means with Scott and their nightmare progeny out of her hair, Paula has an entire quiet room all to herself.

_Knock, knock, knock, knock_

Strike that last part. Someone has other plans for her. Paula covers her head with a pillow and wills the intruder to go away, but the knocking only gets louder. She drags herself out of bed, groaning in annoyance.

“Give me a second!” Paula snaps over the increasingly insistent knocking. She opens the door to Rebecca, who is still wearing last night’s dress with her eye makeup smudged in a way that somehow still works for her. “Wow, Rebecca, you look like the poster child for ‘morning after in Vegas.’ Are you doing the walk of shame?”

“Not exactly,” Rebecca says, then adds in a rush, “Paula, something happened last night.”

Paula’s eyes widen. “What is it? Did you steal a car? Get caught counting cards?” Her voice drops to a whisper. “Do you need help getting rid of a body? I can fashion a shovel out of the ice bucket and magazines that came with the room.”

Rebecca blinks. “Okay, while it’s touching that you’d unquestioningly aid me in a murder clean up, no, what I did isn’t illegal, per se.”

It’s way too early, and Paula’s hangover is way too strong for games. “Just spit it out, cookie.”

Rebecca holds up her left hand, where a cheap smiley face mood ring sits on her ring finger.

“Where’d you get a mood ring?” Paula asks. “I didn’t know they still made those.”

Rebecca winces. “Look closer.”

Paula leans in and sees a simple gold band nestled against the toy ring. “You got _married_?!”

Rebecca's face scrunches in shame.

“It's Greg, isn't it?” Paula sighs.

If possible, Rebecca winces even harder.

“Rebecca Nora Bunch, what the hell happened last night?”

* * *

  _18 Hours Ago_

_“Greg! Hurry up!” Rebecca pounded on his hotel room door. “We have to be at the chapel in five minutes!”_

_“I’ll be there in a minute!” came Greg’s muffled reply. “It’s just downstairs. We’ll be fine.”_

_“You’re underestimating how big this hotel is and overestimating how fast I can run in heels.”_

_She impatiently checked the time on her phone. They were already the only ones in Darryl and White Josh’s wedding party who had missed rehearsal the night before due to Greg’s late final and the case Rebecca had to wrap up. They couldn’t also be late to the actual ceremony._

_They had arrived in Vegas hours later than planned that day because of Greg’s dumb idea to test Southern California traffic and drive up the same day as the wedding. Now that they were actual good friends, though, Rebecca had to admit that being trapped in a metal box for a few extra hours with him was actually kind of fun. His surprising skills at road trip games even made her momentarily forget she was annoyed at how late they were._

_Staring impatiently at Greg’s door, Rebecca belatedly wondered if she was properly dressed. Darryl’s directive of “casual_ Beauty and the Beast _ballroom scene, please no petticoats” for the groomswomen’s dress code made no sense, so she went with a tasteful knee-length black cocktail dress that showed off her assets — classy with a hint of slutty. She was surreptitiously adjusting her Spanx when Greg’s door finally swung open._

_Her heart beating a little bit faster was obviously from the stress of being late and not because he looked more handsome in that dark blue suit than she remembered him being twenty minutes ago._

_“Wow,” he said, as he took in her dress. “You look really pretty.”_

_“You don’t clean up so bad yourself,” she said as she fought the blush heating her cheeks. He was standing so close. It would be so easy to grab him by the lapels and kiss him — woah. Where’d that thought come from? This wedding was doing a real number on her emotions. She mentally shook herself and tried to remember their usual banter. “Enough about you. Let’s go back to me. Wait, compliment me while we’re moving. We’re gonna be late.” She took hold of his arm and pulled him down the hall._

_“You lied about being able to run in heels,” he panted slightly when they arrived at the elevators. “We’re only a little late.”_

_“We should drive to Las Vegas,” she mocked him. He was constantly on her for being late. She couldn’t let go of the opportunity to tease him for the same thing. “With the time it takes to get through airport security and get a cab, it'll take less time than flying.”_

_“It's not my fault we got stuck behind three different accidents on the freeway,” Greg huffed as he let Rebecca onto the elevator first. “Besides, I’m not the one who forgot to get gas last night instead of this morning.”_

_Rebecca stabbed the button for the lobby. “I’m not the one who overslept.”_

_“I’m not the one who had to stop at every other gas station to use the restroom.”_

_“My small bladder is something you’re well aware of. You know I dehydrate myself before we go to movies so I don’t keep getting up.”_

_“Too bad. My favorite part about movies with you is getting dirty looks from strangers when you come back from the restroom and make me tell you what you missed.”_

_“Your tone is sarcastic, but I know there’s a kernel of truth in there.” Rebecca rooted around in her clutch for her phone. “But back to the point: I’m not the one who got lost. You have a smartphone. There are maps of the whole world literally in your hand. How does anyone not know where they’re going at all times?”_

_“If you hadn't slept for half the drive, I would've had a navigator. And I’m not the one who insisted on listening to Britney Spears the entire time she was actually awake.”_

_“How did that make us late?” Rebecca asked as she shot a quick text to Paula saying she and Greg would be there in a minute._

_“It didn’t. I just don’t care to have ‘Toxic’ in my head right now.”_

_Finally, the doors opened. They took off, following the signs to the chapel while dodging ambling tourists and waitresses precariously holding trays of drinks._

_They skidded to a stop at the doors leading to the outdoor chapel and pulled them open, expecting a few folding chairs in front of a modest pergola. Instead, they found themselves in a lush outdoor wedding space surrounded by palm trees stretching up to the clear blue sky. Rose petals were scattered on the white aisle flanked by rows of chairs and bouquets of bright springtime flowers. Over to the side, a large waterfall fixture flowed to an unseen pool. The few guests who arrived early milled about near the guest book._

_“Huh,” Rebecca said thoughtfully._

_“What is it?” Greg asked._

_“I thought a Las Vegas wedding would be more…” She trailed off, searching for the right word._

_“Elvis-y?” Greg offered._

_“That’s it.”_

_“No, this is actually—“_

_“Really beautiful.”_

_“Nice of you to join us,” Paula said as she appeared next to them._

_“Hey!” Rebecca greeted as she enveloped her best friend in a hug. “Oh, my God, you look like a sexy jazz singer!”_

_“You look like a CEO’s hot mistress!” Paula gasped. “By the way, good to see Bonnie and Clyde again.” She turned to Greg. “You’ve done your ancestors proud by wearing their suits that well, you Italian stallion.”_

_Greg tilted his head in confusion and was about to respond when Darryl rushed over to them._

_“Rebecca! Greg!” He nearly pushed Paula aside to give the new arrivals crushing hugs. “I’m so glad you’re here!”_

_“Sorry we’re late,” Rebecca said once she escaped Darryl’s grip._

_“How are you feeling?” Greg asked and clapped Darryl on the shoulder._

_“I am so happy,” Darryl said with a hand on his heart. “I just love Josh so much.”_

_“Aww,” Paula and Rebecca chorused._

_“You two are a wonderful couple,” Rebecca added with a small sniffle. It surprised her how genuinely choked up she was getting._

_“Don’t get me started on the tears before the ceremony even starts,” Darryl warned playfully. “Now, Paula and Rebecca, you’re with me. Greg, Josh is over by the tent with the other groomsmen. You two missed rehearsal last night, so the wedding coordinator will take you through how to walk down the aisle together in a few minutes.”_

_“Oh, Greg and I are walking together,” Rebecca repeated, surprised. “Down the aisle. For a wedding.”_

_She was touched when Darryl asked her to be a groomswoman along with Paula, but beyond going to a truly tame bachelor party that Darryl insisted on hosting in his own home with his daughter in attendance, Rebecca didn’t think about the part where they actually participated in the ceremony._

_Not that she had a problem with walking down the aisle with her ex who now happened to be a good friend. Nope. No issues detected there._

_“It worked out height-wise,” Darryl explained. “Paula is with Josh—Josh Chan, that is; not my Josh—and Hector is with Madison. I hope that's okay with you both.”_

_“No, it makes sense,” Greg said quickly. His forehead looked suspiciously sweatier than it was a minute ago. “Why would there be anything wrong with that?”_

_“Exactly,” Rebecca agreed, nodding a touch too emphatically. “Greg and I walk together all the time. This one is just a shorter walk...over rose petals...surrounded by an audience.”_

_“Great!” Darryl exclaimed, oblivious to any awkwardness._

_Not knowing what else to do, Rebecca put on an Old West voice and awkwardly punched Greg on the shoulder. “See you later, pardner.”_

_Greg looked at her strangely. “Okay.”_

_Paula rolled her eyes and led Rebecca away. “Let’s go, Sheriff.”_

* * *

“Why are you explaining this?” Paula cuts in. “You’re telling me a story with me in it.”

“I’m _painting a picture_ , Paula.”

Truth be told, Paula secretly loves this. It took a long while after Rebecca’s relationship with Josh blew up for Rebecca to admit how much she actually fell for Greg. Now, after all this time watching Rebecca and Greg rebuild their friendship and dance around their obvious feelings for each other, to the increasing annoyance of all of their friends, it’s more than a little satisfying that they ended up here.

Paula wasn’t on board with Greg before, but she can’t deny that between the bouts of bickering, he and Rebecca work well together in a screwball, banter-y way. He’s a good guy, if not overly sardonic for his own good. He surely didn’t deserve to have his heart broken so many times.

Granted, Paula admits she had a hand in everything involving Josh to begin with, but with time comes perspective (and a good amount of marriage counseling, therapy, and heart-to-hearts with Rebecca). Paula has been trying to be a better friend, a helpful one who doesn’t steamroll to get to what only Paula thinks is best. Unfortunately, that also means staying out of it even though Paula’s unmatched scheming skills and years of watching rom coms are crying out to help.

Rebecca cuts into Paula’s thoughts, “I know I’m in the middle of my thing, but can we talk for a minute about Darryl and White Josh’s wedding?”

“I don’t think it’s an overstatement to say that a basket of puppies looks like garbage compared to how cute Darryl and White Josh were.”

“Oh, my God, they were so cute!” Rebecca gushes. “They’re so in love! Their vows were beautiful.”

“The vows were perfect,” Paula agrees. “I never thought I’d say this, but that story Darryl told about the first time White Josh and Madison bonded over her snails was one of the most moving things I’ve ever heard.”

“Oh, I absolutely cried. And White Josh’s haiku about when he knew he loved Darryl? Completely ruined my mascara.”

“I’m tearing up just thinking about it.”

“Who knew that out of everyone we know, they would be the ones with the fairy tale romance?” Rebecca sighs dreamily.

“Speaking of fairy tale romances, you’re still talking about yours.”

“Ha ha,” Rebecca deadpans. “Okay, so the ceremony happened. It was beautiful and not at all awkward.”

“You got a little weird about walking down the aisle with Greg,” Paula reminds her.

“I was exactly the amount of weird I should be about walking down the aisle with my ex who is now my friend. Anyway, we all cried, true love exists, blah, blah, blah.” Rebecca waves a hand in the air. “The reception is...fuzzy.”

Paula nods appreciatively. “God bless that open bar.”

* * *

 

_Rebecca downed the rest of her champagne and almost choked at the sound of a voice close to her ear._

_“Do you want to dance?”_

_Rebecca spun around to find Greg looking at her expectantly. She blinked a couple of times to process what she was seeing. “You? Dancing with me? Since when is that a thing we do?”_

_His shoulders almost imperceptibly slumped. “Never mind.”_

_“Wait, stop.” She caught him by the wrist as he tried to walk away. It wasn’t often that Greg voluntarily did something like this. A pang of guilt struck her for shooting him down, even if it was accidental. “Of course I want to dance. I was just surprised. It’s not like you to do, you know, fun things.”_

_“I do fun things,” Greg argued as they walked to the dance floor with Rebecca’s arm hooked around his, “like that outdoor screening of_ The Breakfast Club _.”_

_“That doesn’t count. I dragged you to that. You didn’t want to sit on the ground to watch a movie.”_

_“Okay, fine. We went to the Getty Museum last weekend.”_

_“That was fun,” Rebecca conceded, “especially when we gave up on looking at art after twenty minutes and went to that really great churro restaurant instead.”_

_“Fried dough is more interesting than Monet,” Greg agreed._

_Just as they stepped onto the dance floor, the generic Bruno Mars jam that was playing switched to the latest tearjerker from Adele._

_Rebecca shook her head muttered, “Yeah, of course this happened.”_

_It was definitely because she had three glasses of champagne in quick succession that her stomach fluttered when Greg put his hands on her waist and began leading her in time with the music._

_She actively tried not to think about how the last wedding they went to together was for Josh’s sister, and that ended...not according to plan. Who’d have thought that after all that, they’d find themselves dancing at another wedding under entirely different circumstances?_

_Rebecca let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding and relaxed further into Greg’s arms. She didn’t like thinking about what led them here, only that she was happy they were there at all. Greg was comfortable and a reliable friend. She told herself that after everything that happened when she moved to West Covina, this is what she needed in her life, and it was enough._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again to the usual suspects for the beta, support, and tacit endorsement of all my behaviors.

Paula dreamily remembers watching those two adorable idiots sweeping across the dance floor together. It was like a fairy tale where the princess and prince were too stubborn to see what was right in front of their dumb, beautiful faces. She sighs, “God, you guys were cute.”

“What?” Rebecca asks.

“What?” Paula repeats, feigning confusion. Crap, she really needs to make sure her thoughts stay in her head. “I didn’t say anything.”

Rebecca looks at her suspiciously but continues, “At the reception, everyone talked about going out afterwards, but then they disappeared, even you. It was so weird. The only one left was Greg.” 

* * *

_“Congrats! Have fun on your honeymoon in Bali!” Rebecca called, waving at Darryl and White Josh as they left the reception. Their honeymoon destination surprised her when she first heard it. She didn’t take Darryl to be a tropical beach kind of guy. Then again, she usually did her best to not picture Darryl at any kind of beach._

_As she watched them disappear down the hall, she fought off that odd mix of happiness and jealousy that came with watching a newly married pair of friends embark on their new life together and shook herself out of the impending moroseness. Her pity party could wait. The night was still young._

_“You guys ready to go out?” Rebecca asked excitedly, catching herself from stumbling as she spun around to face her friends...but they weren’t there. Most of the guests had cleared out, except for Greg, who sat at a nearby table alone and nursed the last of his whiskey. She asked, “Where’d ev’ryone go?”_

_Greg looked up blearily. “Josh went to bed. Hector went with some hot niece of Darryl’s to a club. Heather went to watch him get shot down. Paula and Scott were making out in some corner.”_

_“Oh. I thought they said they wanted to go out tonight.”_

_Greg shrugged and stood with a small amount of effort. “I’m out, too. Night, Bunch.”_

_She pulled him back by the arm. “Where’re you going?”_

_“Back to my room. It’s 1 AM. We have to drive home in a few hours.”_

_“I have a better idea. Let’s do Vegas.”_

_“We_ are _in Vegas.”_

 _“No, I mean,_ be _in Vegas!” Rebecca was dimly aware that she was waving her arms excessively. “I’ve never been here. Let’s get those two foot-tall novelty cups of watered down margaritas! Take a selfie in front of the fake Eiffel Tower! Go to a 24-hour strip club! Burn our money at the craps tables! Tip the casino waitresses really well because that’s a hard job!”_

_“Or we can go to sleep like adults who spent all day in a car, then have to drive another four hours tomorrow.”_

_“Come on. When’s the next time we’re gonna be in Vegas?”_

_“Never. I hate this place.”_

_“Exactly!” She swallowed a hiccup. “Let’s have one night of classic Vegas.”_

_“Did you learn about ‘classic Vegas’ from a AAA guidebook?”_

_“You owe me for going with you to your half-sister’s school play,” she reminded him._

_“No, I don’t. You loved that play.”_

_“Good point. You know, I wasn’t a fan of_ High School Musical _as a movie, but that stage production really brought out the nuances of the school jock character struggling with his artistic identity.”_

_Greg looked at her blankly. “Sure. I’m exhausted, Rebecca. I’m going to sleep.”_

_“Do it for me, Greg. Please?” She wasn’t entirely sure why she wanted to go out so badly. Maybe it was a mix of alcohol and a sense of carpe diem the wedding inspired in her._

_“That wide-eyed guilt trip isn't gonna work on me,” he said, crossing his arms._

_“Okay, what if the first round’s on me?” she offered. He didn’t budge. “An’ second round.”_

_His posture softened a little. “Go on.”_

_“Plus a breakfast buffet in the morning.”_

_He finally glanced at her with feigned disinterest. “I’m listening.”_

_“An’ I’ll drive home.”_

_“Fine. But I’m not going to a strip club with you.”_  

* * *

 Paula asked, “On a scale from zero to your last birthday, how drunk were you?”

Rebecca thinks for a moment. “Last Friday drunk.”

“Ah. So sober enough to walk okay in heels but drunk enough to not feel how much they hurt.”

“Exactly. Come to think of it, I think I’m missing a shoe.”

“We’ll deal with that later. What happened next? You took a few shots at the bar, got caught up in the romance of the wedding, and went straight to the chapel?”

“No, of course not,” Rebecca insists. “I mean, we _did_ take shots at the bar, but then we went to a few casinos — won some money at blackjack, lost even more at roulette. Did you know drinks at casinos are technically free? You just have to tip the waitresses. So there was a lot of that. Maybe. My memory has a lot of blank spots. I know there was a lot of walking and getting those huge margaritas.”

Paula pats Rebecca’s hair fondly. “Oh, cookie, you were literally a walking Vegas cliché.”

Rebecca frowns. “That's not helping. In any case, I’m not sure how we ended up in front of a chapel.” 

* * *

  _They squinted up at the bright neon lights outlining the ornate A Little White Chapel facade. Against the dark desert sky, it was actually kind of beautiful._

_Watching the hearts on the sign flash, Rebecca said, “I always thought that if I got married in Vegas, I’d go full kitsch, like go to the 24-hour chapel with a pink limo parked out front — hey, they have the pink limo here — an’ an Elvis impers’nator doing the cer’mony. When in Rome, y’know?”_

_She shrugged and peered into her tall novelty cup as she slurped the last of the watered-down margarita dredges. When she looked back up, Greg was kneeling on the sidewalk in front of her. “Woah, what’re you doing?”_

_Greg swayed a little. “You said you wanted a classic Las Vegas exper’ence. What's more Vegas than getting trashed an’ married in the middle of the night? Where's that ring you found?”_

_Earlier, as they passed an arcade closed for the night, Rebecca nearly tripped on a happy face mood ring on the ground. It was only slightly warped, so she put it on and brought it along with them as a good luck charm. (“It's face up like a good luck penny!” Rebecca reasoned.)_

_She slipped the ring off her finger and handed it over._

_Greg took her left hand in his. “Rebecca...uh, Lawyer Bunch, will you get married to me by Elvis?”_

_Even through her drunken haze, she knew this was a bad idea. There was no way this would end well. And yet._

_“Yeah, okay,” she found herself saying._

_“Awesome!” Greg put his hand up for a high five. Rebecca laughed as she returned it._

_With some effort and help from Rebecca, Greg managed to pull himself up. To her surprise, he leaned over and kissed her in a way that could most generously be described as “sloppy.“ Even with his questionable aim, though, Rebecca was hit with a rush of old fluttery feelings._

_For a moment as she wrapped her arms around his neck, she was stone-cold sober. A voice in the back of her mind told her to stop before they reached the point of no return. Before she could process it, they broke apart, and the haze of alcohol and bad decisions rolled back in._

_Greg reached into his pocket and took out an engraved flask White Josh and Darryl gave as a bridal party gift. Not for the first time that night, Rebecca was thankful it only took $20 and a strategic flash of her cleavage for the bartender to fill all of their flasks during the reception._

_Greg tilted his flask towards Rebecca for a toast. “Happy engagement.”_

_“Cheers,” Rebecca laughed, pulling her own flask from her purse, tapping it against his, and taking a long pull._  

* * *

 “I knew that amazing present would bite us in the ass.” Paula shakes her head. “Then what happened?”

“That’s the last thing I clearly remember. I sort of remember meeting Elvis, who might have actually been a woman? I think our witness was ZZ Top...or a grungy Santa. Then I woke up feeling like crap next to Greg in my room wearing these rings.”

“Did you two…?”

“No, we were fully clothed.” She pulls up photos on her phone and hands it to Paula. “I found wedding pictures this morning.”

Paula scrolls backwards through the pictures: Rebecca and Greg kissing as the petite Elvis impersonator applauds; Rebecca beaming, wearing a cheap veil, and brandishing a bouquet of tulips that had seen better days; Greg peering intently into a display case of wedding bands.

Paula snorts. “You guys look completely wasted.” She scrolls to a selfie earlier in the night of Rebecca and Greg in front of the Statue of Liberty facsimile, their smiles wide and with their eyes glassy. “But happy. You look wasted but happy.”

Rebecca flops backwards onto the bed. “That’s not happiness. That’s whisky.”

“What’s the difference?” Paula scrolls through more photos and lands on shots of Rebecca and Greg drinking with friends at Darryl and White Josh’s reception. “This is just like that movie _Drunk Married in Vegas_ about the best friends who were secretly in love with each other and got drunk and married in Vegas.”

“Paula, this isn’t a movie, and Greg and I are not in love. You know what, I blame society and its refusal to accept that a man and a woman can be just platonic friends.”

“It was a joke. Put away the protest sign, Norma Rae.”

“That doesn’t apply. This has nothing to do with unions, and no one’s health is compromised.”

Paula stares at her. “Wow, marriage has really made you lose your sense of humor.”

Rebecca sits back up. “How are you not freaking out about this, Paula?! _Greg and I are married_.”

When Paula said she wanted them to get off this “We’re best friends who don’t realize we’re actually in love with each other” rom com train, she didn't expect them to get on an even more clichéd track. It’s so good, Paula wishes she planned it. It’s probably not the best time to point that out, though. Instead, she asks, “Have you talked to Greg yet?”

“No, he was still asleep when I left to find you.”

“Cookie, talk to Greg. Figure out what you both want and take it from there.”

“We’re obviously getting an annulment. We can’t stay married. He’s one of my best friends.”

“Yeah! Of course!”

“Why’d your voice get all high?”

Paula pauses, contemplating the most delicate way of saying it but decides they’re way past formalities. “Don’t tell me you never thought about getting back together with Greg.”

“No!” Rebecca pauses. “Maybe a couple of times, but that’s besides the point. Getting back together is way less drastic than _getting drunkenly married_.”

“Fair point.” Paula takes Rebecca’s hands in hers. “Listen, I will do anything you need. If you want, I’ll meet you at the office when we're back in West Covina today and help you get the paperwork started.”

Rebecca puts a hand to her heart. “You'd go to the office on a Sunday for me?”

“Honey, for you, I would work early on a Saturday.”

“I love you, Paula.”

“I love you, too.” She pulls Rebecca in for a hug. “We’ll figure this out, Mrs. Serrano.”

Rebecca snorts. “Come on, Paula. Even if this did stick, I'd probably hyphenate.”

“You’re right. Tell Mr. Bunch hi for me.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First comes alcohol, then comes marriage, then comes the morning after freak out. You know, that old chestnut.
> 
> This chapter is once again dedicated to Diaphenia for the excellent notes, Smapdi for the ~~peer pressuring~~ gentle encouragement, and angelica for the general wonderfulness.

Rebecca is in the elevator on her way back to her room when her phone dings.

_10:30 AM_  
_From: Greg_  
_To: Rebecca_  
_Where did you go?_  
_We need to talk_  
_Obviously_

She still needs time to get her head together, so she stalls. It’s not like they’re going to get _more_ married in the meantime.

_10:31 AM_  
_From: Rebecca_  
_To: Greg_  
_I went to get something from Paula_  
_Meet in my room in 20?_  
_Check out is soon. We should pack_

_From: Greg_  
_To: Rebecca_  
_Ok_

Something in her stomach jostles, and it’s not because of the hangover, though that has decided to hit her, too, now that the adrenaline of suddenly finding out she’s married has somewhat subsided.

Her vision blurs at the edges, and she descends into an ‘80s pop musical number as she makes her way through the hotel hallways.

 _I accidentally married my best friend_  
_It’s not the worst feeling, I’m not gonna pretend_  
_But we can’t ruin our hard-fought friendship_  
_For a drunken mistake and re-ignited tension_

The cocktail dress from the night before transforms into an outfit of fishnets and lace while her hair becomes a crimped mess topped with a large bow. Bell boys lift her onto a cleaning cart, and maids push her down the hall as tourists in shorts and Hawaiian shirts spin around her in time to the beat.

_Oh-oh, never coming back to Vegas  
Oh-oh, the results have been heinous_

The next thing she knows, her back is to her hotel room door, hands clutched to her heart as the hallway lighting returns to its dull yellow and the final strains of music fade in her mind. With a tired sigh, she slips into her room.

A few minutes and a hasty shower later, Rebecca is tossing her dress from last night into her bag when there’s a knock on her door. She takes a steadying breath to brace herself for some awkward dancing around the topic and opens it.

“What the hell happened last night?” Greg demands in lieu of a hello as he pushes past her with his duffel bag slung over his shoulder.

“Oh, we’re just doing this,” Rebecca says, flustered, as she follows Greg. “Do you remember anything?”

“Not really.” He drops the bag on the ground and himself on the edge of the bed. “We were playing roulette at a casino, and the next thing I knew, I woke up here with a wedding ring, and you were gone.”

“I had to get my phone charger from Paula.”

“I figured you went to find her.” He looks at her a little sadly. “You should’ve talked to me first.”

Their knees brush as she sits next to him. It occurs to her that they’re perhaps sitting too close for the situation, but it would be obvious if she moved now.

“I’m sorry. I panicked. I just needed to wrap my head around what happened.” She forces herself to meet his eyes. “But it’s fine! This is totally fixable. We were inebriated beyond the point of informed consent.”

Greg winces. “Use smaller words. I’m pretty hungover.”

“We were super drunk. Neither of us remember what happened. That’s grounds for an annulment.”

“Right,” he agrees, nodding slowly. “An annulment. That’s what we’ll do. Because we can’t be married.”

“Exactly.” Rebecca scoffs. “We're, like, best friends. That would be weird.”

“Yeah,” Greg returns with a forced laugh. “We were a terrible couple. We're not even into each other like that anymore.”

“Right? I mean, sure, we were really good at sex with each other.”

“Excellent, even.”

“We should’ve won awards for those two weeks together. But that’s not the only thing you need in a marriage.”

“Not that either of us actually knows what a good marriage looks like,” Greg adds.

“No, but movies and my therapist say you need trust and commitment and romantic feelings. We don’t have feelings.”

“Nope. Definitely don’t.”

“Right. So. Annulment.”

“Agreed,” Greg says. After a moment, he hesitantly asks, “Speaking of...that other thing, do you remember if we, you know, consummated the marriage?”

Despite her assurance to Paula that she and Greg didn’t have sex, Rebecca isn’t entirely sure. Who knows what kind of clumsy, mostly-clothed sex their drunken, newlywed selves could’ve had? Still, she’s almost certain that even her inebriated memory would hold on to a night with Greg.

“No, I’d remember that part if we did,” involuntarily slips out under her breath.

She's teetering on the edge of mortification when she realizes Greg, at the same time, said something that sounded suspiciously like “I'd want to remember.”

“What did you say?” Rebecca asks.

“What did _you_ say?” Greg throws back.

“I asked first.”

“I'm older.”

“Are we twelve years old? Answer the question.” In pushing the matter, she knows she’s risking revealing what she said, but her need for confirmation that he’s on the same wavelength outweighs everything else.

“Did you say you'd remember if we had sex?” Greg asks.

“Did _you_ say you'd _want_ to remember if we had sex?”

“You can't answer a question with a question.”

Rebecca leans in in what she hopes is an intimidating manner. “I won every debate I had in high school, mainly because of my superior arguments, but also because I questioned my opponents into submission.”

“You mean you tired them out until they stopped caring.”

“Either, or. More importantly — and I’m not sure why I didn’t bring this up first because it’s a more convincing reason — I’m a kick ass lawyer. I will take you down, Serrano.”

In leaning in, Rebecca didn't foresee that it would put their faces dangerously close enough to almost feel his breath on her cheek. He smells like generic hotel soap, there’s a patch of stubble on his jaw that he missed while shaving, and his hair is half damp from the shower. He’s kind of a mess. It’s the most attractive she’s found him in a long time.

It crosses her mind that, strictly speaking, there’s nothing in the laws for annulment that says they can’t make out a little. Or a lot. Or do other things that wouldn’t technically count as consummating a marriage. Her eyes flick up to his, and the way he’s staring at her mouth says that he would probably be amenable to any of those not-quite-consummation activities. His hand brushes hers on the bed and—

“Housekeeping!” a voice and knock at the door cuts in.

They jump apart so quickly that Greg almost falls off the bed.

Rebecca takes a deep breath to calm her racing heart. What the hell is in the water in this town? She and Greg are acting like a couple of teenagers trying to fool around before their parents get home. They were doing a perfectly good job being non-touchy friends in West Covina.

“What are we doing?” she berates herself, then calls towards the door, “We’ll be right out!”

“I’m sorry, miss,” the muffled voice on the other side of the door says. “Check out was a few minutes ago.”

Greg clears his throat and doesn’t quite meet Rebecca’s eyes. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.”

“No, it’s fine. That was both of us.”

“Call it a draw? With the who-said-what thing?”

Rebecca is not usually one to back out of an argument, but there would be no other way to leave the room without fundamentally changing their relationship. She’s so thankful that Greg gave them this out that she almost hugs him, which would defeat the purpose of needing an out in the first place.

Instead, she nods and agrees, “Draw. Let’s check out and go home.”

As they drop off their room keys and make their way to the parking garage, Rebecca and Greg pointedly talk about anything but their current situation, from the number of fanny packs on loitering hotel guests to the convenience of rolling luggage (“Whoever invented rolling bags deserves a Nobel Prize for traveling, am I right?” she laughs too loudly).

The tense conversation stretches into an awkward silence as they pull onto the freeway. Try as she might, Rebecca can’t stop thinking about how she and Greg sort of admitted that they wanted to sleep together and then almost kissed, not to mention the fact that they are actually, legally, absurdly married. They should probably talk about it, right? That’s what adults do with their accidental, soon-to-be-ex-spouses.

Or, better idea, they can completely avoid talking about any of it. That sounds more like what adults do. Rebecca suggests, “I downloaded a few episodes of _Wait Wait...Don’t Tell Me!_ on my phone if you want to put one on.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she can see the tension practically drain from Greg’s shoulders. It looks like she wasn’t the only one debating whether to broach the topic neither of them wanted to talk about.

“Yeah, that’s a good idea.” He takes her phone and plugs it into the radio.

They spend the remainder of the drive occasionally commenting on what’s on the radio and ignoring the rings weighing down their left hands.

* * *

Four hours later, they pull up in front of Greg’s house and sit in silence for a full minute before Rebecca finally speaks.

“I'm gonna go to the office and get started on that annulment paperwork.”

“You can't even wait till Monday to get rid of me, huh?”

“No, I didn't mean—”

He puts a hand on her arm. “Calm down, Bunch. It was a joke.”

“Oh. Yeah. I knew that.” She pauses. “We should get an annulment, right?”

He meets her eyes. For a moment, he looks like he's about to suggest they give this whole bizarre marriage situation a shot. She realizes with a start that in that same moment, she would've agreed.

Greg looks away. “Of course. The alternative is staying married. We can't do that. We're not in love. We're not even in like. Not that way anyway.”

“No, you're right. I don't know what I'm saying. The driving and the not sleeping is messing with me.”

“You don't have to go into the office right now. Do you want to come inside for a little bit?”

“No, I should probably go before your dad sees me. He’ll know something’s up, and I can’t lie to him.”

“Too late.”

She follows Greg’s line of sight to Mr. Serrano standing at the open front door, waving them in. Well, if she avoids eye contact and gets out of there quickly enough, they might come out of this unscathed.

“I’ll go in and say hi,” Rebecca says as she unbuckles her seatbelt.

Mr. Serrano envelopes her into a warm hug as she enters the house. “Rebecca, it’s good to see you again.”

Greg’s father took a shine to her as soon as they met. She’s rather fond of him, too. He reminds her of what her younger self thought a good dad would be like: all warmth, straight talk, and corny dad jokes. She wonders if Greg will be this cheery of a father, too — okay, she really needs to cool it with these thoughts.

“Hello to you, too, Dad,” Greg says wryly as he drops his duffel bag next to the front door.

Mr. Serrano waves him off good naturedly. “I see you all the time. This one doesn’t come over nearly enough.”

“I actually only have a minute to say hi,” Rebecca says, focusing on a spot above Mr. Serrano’s head. “I have a meeting.”

“On a Sunday?”

“You know me, married to my job.” Rebecca winces at her word choice. She can practically feel Greg’s sharp intake of breath from across the room. “Metaphorically married, that is. I'm not ready to be _actually_ married. That’s not to say I'm opposed to it forever. The timing’s just not right for me work-wise, and I really need to work on myself first. Okay, anyway, I’ll see you later!”

She’s about to bolt for the door when Mr. Serrano’s eyes snap to Greg’s left hand. “Greg, are you wearing a ring?”

Rebecca’s eyes widen and meet Greg’s. Maybe keeping the wedding bands on when you're trying to hide them is not the smoothest move. “Um…”

Mr. Serrano catches Rebecca’s left hand to look at the rings. “Did you two…?”

Greg holds up his hands. “It's not what it looks like, Dad.”

“You got _married_?!”

“It's kind of what it looks like,” Rebecca concedes.

“That's fantastic!” Mr. Serrano whoops with joy. “I knew you two were lying about not dating. Everyone thought it was obvious. It’s not ideal that you didn’t invite your family, but don’t worry. We’ll have a big belated reception to celebrate!”

“Dad, stop for a second.”

“Don't rain on my parade, Greg.” Mr. Serrano cups Rebecca’s face in his hands. “I knew from the moment we met that you were special. I’ve always wanted a daughter.”

“Oh, no, Mr. Serrano, we—“

“Sweetheart, you’re part of the family now. Call me Dad.” He pulls her into a tight hug. “I am so glad Greg won't be alone when I'm gone.”

“Oh, it's getting worse,” Rebecca laughs uncomfortably. Over his dad’s shoulder, she motions for Greg to do something.

“Hold on, Dad,” Greg says gently as he pries Rebecca free.

“You, too!” Mr. Serrano exclaims and pulls his son in for a hug. “I’m so proud of you. I knew you’d get your head out of your ass and figure out she’s the one.”

“Dad, we need to tell you something.”

Mr. Serrano steps back and looks at them with wide eyes. He asks hopefully, “Are you pregnant?”

“No!” Greg and Rebecca exclaim loudly enough to startle the older man.

“No,” Rebecca repeats, calmer. “It's just that we didn't mean to get married. It was an accident.”

“There's no such thing as getting married by accident. Either you get married or you don't.”

“No, Dad, we’re not even dating,” Greg says. “It was a mistake. We got drunk in Vegas and woke up married.”

“But don’t worry,” Rebecca says with a brightness she doesn’t actually feel, “we’re going to get an annulment. It’ll be like it never happened.”

“Marriage isn’t something you just throw away,” Mr. Serrano says.

“You’re divorced,” Greg points out.

“Hey, your mother and I tried to make it work.” At Greg’s raised eyebrows, he amends, “Okay, we hated each other, and it was never going to work out, but that doesn’t mean we didn’t try. You usually only get one shot at this marriage thing — unless, of course, you’re Frank Sinatra, and you, son, are no Frankie.”

Rebecca recognizes Mr. Serrano’s attempt to lighten the mood, but guilt clamps her mouth shut and stops any half-hearted response at the tip of her tongue. She risks a glance in Greg’s direction, but his eyes are boring a hole into a spot on the carpet.

The silence is filled with Mr. Serrano’s sigh. “It’s always something with you two. You make it harder than it needs to be. When will you figure out that you’re crazy about each other?”

Rebecca’s heart constricts with a sadness she's not quite ready to analyze.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Serrano. I have to go.” She squeezes his hand and avoids looking in Greg’s direction as she rushes out of the house.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time to bring this (wedding) train into the station. (Please don't let the terribleness of that joke be a reflection of this chapter.)
> 
> Once more with feeling, thank you to the Trifecta of My Heart, which is a nickname I just made up: Diaphenia, angelica, and Smapdi, all of whom are to blame for this bit of insanity I call a fic to exist.

_4:36 PM_  
_From: Rebecca_  
_To: Paula_  
_Just dropped Greg off at his dad’s. Meet you at the office?_

 _From: Paula_  
_To: Rebecca_  
_Getting the kids from my mom’s and taking them home_  
_Be there in an hour_  
_U doing ok?_

 _From: Rebecca_  
_To: Paula_  
_Maybe_  
_Eventually_  
_See you soon_

Rebecca scrapes herself off the elevator wall she was leaning heavily against and drags herself through the eerily quiet Whitefeather and Associates bullpen. Somehow, her office feels even quieter even as she plops herself onto her chair.

She’s not a divorce attorney, but she remembers enough from law school to start annulment paperwork. Right now, though, the thought of filling out any form fills her with dread. She’ll just have that skittish lawyer Tim to do it for her on Monday. He’s still under Paula’s thumb for some reason, so he’ll keep mum and won’t put up a fight.

It would be so easy to dissolve her and Greg’s drunken mistake. Everything in her head says there’s no good reason to stay married, yet there’s a feeling at the pit of her stomach fighting against ending it.

She takes out her phone and scrolls through the photos from the night before. Paula was right; they looked happy. Rebecca goes back to the photo of her and Greg kissing in the chapel. For a brief, shining moment, they looked downright euphoric. A very small part of her brain allows her a moment to pretend it was real.

It’s taken so long for them to get to this place in their friendship, a relationship they mutually agreed would only work if they stayed firmly on the platonic side. Why does it suddenly feel like friendship isn’t enough anymore?

“Hey, cookie,” Paula greets as she breezes in and drops herself in a chair in front of Rebecca’s desk. “Sorry I couldn’t get here sooner. Tommy swallowed a marble as soon as we got home. Where did he even get a marble? 1995? But it's fine. He’ll, you know, pass it. Anyway, let’s get this annulment rolling!”

“Yeah,” Rebecca says absently as she stares at the photo from the chapel.

Paula tilts her head sympathetically. “Are you okay? Did Greg say something awful? I knew he’d make a terrible ex-husband.”

“I don’t want to get an annulment,” Rebecca confesses quietly, her eyes still on her phone. She thought saying it out loud would alleviate the weight on her shoulders, but she only feels worse.

“What was that?” Paula asks, leaning forward.

“I don’t want to get an annulment,” Rebecca repeats louder.

“Are you saying you want to be married Greg?”

“No! Maybe. I don’t know.” Rebecca groans in frustration and drops her head on the desk. “Maybe I like the idea of being with Greg forever and having, like, three kids and a dog. No minivan, though. We’re too young and hip for that. We’d have an SUV.” She raises her head. “God, what am I saying? I can’t trash one of the few good relationships in my life for some pipe dream. _Again_.”

“Maybe this drunken mistake was actually a good thing.” Paula puts a hand up to stop Rebecca’s protest. “Bup bup bup. Hear me out. There’s been something between you two ever since you met. Hell, you hooked up within hours of meeting. I mean, you’re both hot, so of course you did. The point is that as long as you’ve known each other, there have been...forces and your shared denial keeping you apart. Maybe you need commitment forced on you to give an actual relationship a chance.”

Rebecca laughs humorlessly. “An unwanted wedding sounds like the start of a completely healthy relationship.”

“You two already had half a dozen starts. This is some weird middle that your drunken, truthful selves forced you into. It’s like that movie _Accidental Wedding_ when the two exes get drunk in Las Vegas and subconsciously know they’re getting married but don’t say anything because they think the other will freak out.”

“How many on-the-nose movie titles about getting drunkenly married in Vegas are there?”

“At least seven. We watched them while helping Darryl assemble wedding favors, remember? But the real question is, do you love Greg?”

Her brain instinctively forms the word “No,” but what comes out is, “Yes.”

Rebecca slaps her hands over her mouth as Paula’s eyes widen with glee. “You said it!”

It hits Rebecca all at once: the butterflies in her stomach, quickened heartbeat, sweaty palms, and sheer panic. She breathes, “Oh, my God, I think I’m in love with Greg.”

Paula makes a noise between a scoff and a laugh. “Finally. Took you long enough to figure it out.”

“What? How did you know? And when did you get on board with this?”

“Around the time you told me about the three days of ruining. Honestly, I don't know why you didn't lock him down right then.”

“Paula, I'm serious.”

“So am I. I don’t know the last time I had so much great sex that it put me in the hospital. Oh, I remember: never.”

“This is not good. I can’t be married to Greg _and_ be in love with him.”

“You sound like a married woman already.”

“No, Paula. Greg and I are about to get an annulment. I’m in love with Greg, we’re married, and we’re _about to get an annulment_.” The reality of the situation sinks in. “What if we get an annulment, and that’s it? What if we never get another chance? What if this effectively kills our friendship, too? I can’t lose him again.” She’s kind of furious that he managed to worm his way into being such an important person in her life without her noticing.

“Honey, look at me. Take a deep breath.” Paula mirrors Rebecca’s intake of air. “You need to figure out what you want.”

“I want to make our marriage work.” Rebecca lets out an incredulous laugh. “This is insane. What do I do now?”

“You need tell Greg you want to stay married.”

“Ugh, it sounds worse when someone else says it,” Rebecca groans as she drops her head back on the desk. She sits up again with a gasp. “What if he says no?”

Paula shrugs. “Then we take everything he owns and burn it in effigy. It won’t come to that, though. I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”

“Okay. I’m doing this. I’m going to talk to Greg.” Rebecca pulls out her phone and is about to type but stops. “Maybe I should slowly introduce the idea to him over dinner. We can go for tapas—”

“Stop stalling.”

“No, no. You’re right.” Rebecca nods resolutely and types.

 _7:03 PM_  
_From: Rebecca_  
_To: Greg_  
_Hey, can we talk?_

She nervously puts down her phone and jumps when it dings almost immediately.

 _7:03 PM_  
_From: Greg_  
_To: Rebecca_  
_Can’t I sign the papers tomorrow?_

 _From: Rebecca_  
_To: Greg_  
_No, it’s not about paperwork_

 _From: Greg_  
_To: Rebecca_  
_Is everything ok?_

 _From: Rebecca_  
_To: Greg_  
_It’s good. I just want to talk_

 _From: Greg_  
_To: Rebecca_  
_Are you going to tell me what it is or are you going to keep being cryptic?_

 _From: Rebecca_  
_To: Greg_  
_Cryptic_

 _From: Greg_  
_To: Rebecca_  
_Fine_  
_Meet me at Home Base in an hour?_

 _From: Rebecca_  
_To: Greg_  
_See you then :)_

“Smiley face?” Paula questions. “Never mind. It’s fine.”

“I panicked!” Rebecca cries defensively. She takes a deep, calming breath. “Okay, I’m gonna go save my marriage.”

Paula hugs Rebecca tightly. “Go get ‘em, kiddo.” 

* * *

When Greg said to meet at the bar, it didn’t occur to Rebecca there would be other people present, but of course there are a number of families and solo parents trying to escape their children on a Sunday evening. It looks like whatever conversation she and Greg have will happen in front of an audience. He isn’t anywhere in sight, though.

“Hi, Kevin,” she greets as she approaches Greg’s boss at the bar. “Is Greg here?”

He answers loudly, “Hey, Rebecca! It’s good to see you! I think he’s in the back room. I’ll get him.”

“Why are you yelling?” Rebecca asks his retreating back. She takes a seat and drums her fingers impatiently on the bar.

She’s starting to wonder if Greg is even here when says from behind her, “Hi, Rebecca.”

Rebecca spins around and starts at the sight of Greg wearing a suit. “Did I miss the formal dress code part of your text?”

He takes her hand and leads her to the middle of the room. A furious blush rises to her cheeks when she realizes the scattered patrons around them have fallen silent.

He’s still holding her hand when he begins, “Two years ago, I loathed you. You were weird and kind of mean, and we didn’t like each other all that much.”

“This is a really public way to say you hate me.”

“Wait, let me say this.” Greg squeezes her hand and waits for her to nod. He returns her nod nervously. “We went out, and that was really bad. But then we went out again, and things changed. I...loved you...until I didn’t. Except that isn’t true. I never stopped loving you even when we hated each other, even when we became actual friends. But I didn’t realize any of this until I was sitting alone in my dad’s house, wifeless. It suddenly dawned on me that there’s no one else I’d rather be married to, accidentally or otherwise.”

Greg drops to one knee and pulls a tab from a soda can out of his pocket. He shrugs sheepishly. “It’s the best I could do on short notice.”

Rebecca can barely hear over her heart beating wildly. “Greg, what are you doing?”

“Rebecca Nora Bunch, hold off on the annulment because I’d like to date you.” He seems to consider his words and adds quietly, “Please.”

“Was all that from _The Proposal_?”

“Kind of. I watched it while you were at the office.”

“I’ve been trying to get you to watch that movie for years, but I know how you feel about Ryan Reynolds.”

“I find the combination of his handsomeness and humor intimidating.”

“I know.” She can’t help the sting of tears behind her eyes. “But you watched it for me?”

“I’m not good at big romantic gestures, but it's one of your favorite movies, so I figured I should borrow from it.”

Now she’s really fighting a losing battle against the sob in her throat. “Greg, this is crazy.”

“Crazy is relative. Is it crazy that you quit your high-paying job in New York to follow your summer camp boyfriend to West Covina? Or that the two of us are still friends even after we repeatedly hurt each other?”

“Yes,” Rebecca says as she nods amidst the murmurs of “Yes, that’s all crazy” around them.

Greg continues, “There has to be some reason why we keep ending up here. Not me kind of proposing in Home Base ‘here.’ Just, you know, the metaphorical ‘here.’”

“No, I get it,” Rebecca laughs.

“If we don’t stick to this, it’ll be another excuse to not be together. We might not get another shot.”

It’s everything she’s been thinking being repeated back to her by commitment-phobic Greg, of all people. If she didn’t love him before, she definitely feels it now.

“The floor’s getting kind of uncomfortable,” Greg says nervously. “What do you say?”

It's absolutely ridiculous and a completely backwards for a relationship, but they never were the types to go with convention.

“Yes,” she laughs disbelievingly, “I want to stay married.”

He stands, cups her face in his hands, and kisses her hard. Faintly, she registers the sound of applause around them but pushes it away in favor of losing herself in the feeling of his lips on hers and his arms pulling her tighter to him. They’re like that for so long that she thinks the music she hears is from her lapsing into her imagination, but she realizes she doesn’t have that usual hazy feeling that comes with it.

“Wait,” Rebecca says breathlessly as she pulls away. “What is that music?”

“If I’m so good at kissing that you hear music, wait till we get home.”

“No. I mean, yes, you're very good, but do you hear ‘In Your Eyes’?”

They look around and see Kevin at the end of the bar holding up a wireless speaker. He puts it down sheepishly. “Sorry. Didn't meant to interrupt. It felt like the right thing to do.”

“It’s fine, Kevin,” Rebecca waves him off. She knows she’s beaming like an idiot at Greg, but she can’t find it in herself to care. “Do you want to get out of here?”

“Yeah,” Greg says, smiling wider than Rebecca has seen in a long time. Without looking away from her, he adds, “Kevin, I’m taking the night off.”

“You kids get out of here,” Kevin calls after them. “Congratulations!”

As the doors swing closed behind them, Rebecca hears Kevin say to a customer, “You know, they met in this very spot. In a way, I’m kind of a matchmaker.”

* * *

From her car, Paula watches Greg and Rebecca leave Home Base hand-in-hand and pumps her arms in victory.

“You magnificent genius, Paula,” she says to herself as she dials a number on her phone.

“Did it work?” the voice on the other end asks when it picks up.

“Mission accomplished, Mr. Serrano,” she says smugly. She has to hand it to Greg, really. A big public gesture in the same place where he and Rebecca first met? Maybe Paula was wrong about his romantic sensibilities. “Great job on the guilt trip.”

“I’ve had thirty years of practice,” he laughs. “Did you really plan for them to get married in Las Vegas?”

“No, I just thought they’d get drunk and sleep together,” Paula laughs then stops, “which is a weird thing to say to Greg’s father. Anyway, the wedding thing was better than I could’ve planned, so I called an audible.

“As far as plans go, it was one of my easier ones,” she continues mostly to herself and ticks items off her fingers. “All I did was strategically place a pre-bookmarked Las Vegas tourist guidebook on my desk for Rebecca to see, push Greg to ask Rebecca to dance at the reception, tell everyone to convince Rebecca to go out on the town afterwards then make themselves scarce, and give you a heads up to guilt them into staying married.” She thinks for a moment. “I also made Rebecca watch half a dozen movies about getting married in Vegas before we went. Maybe I did subconsciously hope they’d get married.”

“Is that all you did?” Mr. Serrano asks dryly.

Paula thinks a little longer. “Oh, and I also got Greg’s professor to move his final to Friday and made sure Rebecca had to work late on a case so they had to drive up together.”

There’s a pause on the phone. “Who _are_ you?”

“I’m Rebecca Bunch’s best friend,” Paula says proudly. “Now, when do you think is a good time to suggest they name their first born after me?”

 

**End**


End file.
